Flesh and Blood
by thesilverhaireddevil
Summary: Set just before Foreplay. Kazuya visits Lee after defeating him in the fourth tournament and the two brothers spend time getting used to Kazuya being alive again. I had always wanted to do something with that tweet of Harada's about Lee being one of the best cooks in the game, and had this idea of Lee cooking for Kazuya. I was wondering what exactly they'd eat, then it struck me


"You cook. _You_."

"Yes."

Kazuya didn't say anything further but he smirked beneath his heavy brows. He sat back heavily in his seat and Lee watched him, frowning.

"I'll cook for you."

"Who says I'm hungry?"

"You'll like it, I promise. I started the preparations already. It won't take long."

Lee went past his brother, brushing against the back of his chair – Kazuya didn't pull his chair out of Lee's way, instead forcing Lee to squeeze past him on his way out of the kitchen. He sighed internally, but quickly pushed his annoyance away as he retrieved the heavy plate he'd taken out of the fridge earlier bearing the thick slabs of steak, and he eyed the way the seasonings had sunk into the meat, pleased.

Back in the kitchen, Kazuya watched him suspiciously as he moved about easily, flicking switches, and opening cupboards.

He unwrapped the steaks and Kazuya's eyes fell on them. His suspicious frown deepened.

"If this is poison, some sort of trick…"

"I wouldn't waste steak this good on that. I'd just inject it into you when you were sleeping."

Lee paused with the pan in his hand to throw a mischievous look over his shoulder at Kazuya.

Kazuya's eyes narrowed, but he stayed where he was.

The steaks began to sizzle gently as they hit the pan. Lee kept his eye on them; timing was crucial, especially for steaks like these. Take them off too quick and they'd be leaking precious juice and flavour; leave them on too long and they'd lose some of their tenderness. He counted the seconds, turning each steak briskly with a practiced twist of his wrist, and when he judged the time was up, they went onto a lower heat.

The fat was melting into the meat now, filling it with flavour, and he eyed the pan hungrily. Behind him, he heard the scrape of a chair being pushed back and then Kazuya was right behind him, watching him cook.

Lee kept his attention on the pan. Kazuya's aftershave was mingling with the delicious smell from the pan, and his body's heat was competing with the heat from the pan. Two large, well-muscled forearms rested casually on either side of him, skin showing where the sleeves had been rolled up, but Kazuya didn't touch him. _Not yet, anyway_.

Kazuya's breath was hot on the back of his neck as he looked over Lee's shoulder at the steaks, now a pretty light brown with pink still around the edges. Lee counted in his head, and judged that they could do with another turn. Judging by the sound they made as they settled in the pan again, the juices had been sealed inside perfectly, and combined with the melting fat, they would be delectable.

Kazuya couldn't deny him this thing.

The arms trapping him in moved away, and a moment later Kazuya had returned to his chair.

Finally, Lee slid a quick thumb onto the steaks, judged them almost ready, and switched the heat off. He quickly slid a sheet of foil over the top of the pan, and checked his watch.

"Aren't they done yet?"

"Nearly." Lee snapped his fingers. Just enough time to get wine and plates. He knew exactly what wine he was going to bring out too.

Squeezing past Kazuya again, he dashed to his wine cellar and returned a few moments later, carrying a bottle reverently. Blowing the dust off ostentatiously, he handed it to Kazuya with a flourish.

Kazuya read the label, eyes frowning as he raised them up to Lee's expectant face.

"This is…"

"…from Father's cellar, yes. I stole it the day I left. I never anticipated drinking it."

They stared at each other for a moment.

Lee handed Kazuya a corkscrew and two fine crystal glasses. "Open it. Steak's ready now."

He peeled the foil off his pan and breathed in the delectable scent of melted fat and pampered beef cooked to perfection. The steaks went onto plates, and he smiled as he fetched the cutlery.

Kazuya looked at him, unimpressed, and handed him a glass of wine in exchange for a steak.

Lee sat and took up his knife and fork. Passing Kazuya a napkin, he smiled and waited expectantly.

Kazuya's knife was sharp, with a keen edge like a scalpel. It sank into the steak easily. The meat was tender, with a pink flush around the edges that deepened to a darker blush once cut through. Already the juices were seeping onto the plate, delicate pink on porcelain like the petal of a lotus.

"Salt?"

"Already seasoned. Eat."

Lee was cutting into his own steak now, and he took a sip of his wine before he'd allow himself to fork up a bite. His eyes were on Kazuya.

Kazuya cut off a chunk of meat and placed it in his mouth.

The taste was incredible. The fat that had melted into the flesh gave it a buttery, rich flavour that filled his mouth with the most delectable juices. The meat was tender, with an almost sweet flavour complemented by the salt and pepper Lee had garnished it with before cooking.

He swallowed, and took a drink of his wine. The wine was deep red, blood to go with the flesh, and it was dark and subtle in flavour, a true favourite of his father's if ever there was one.

Lee watched him, a little secret smile on his face as he blotted the corners of his mouth. His lips were a little flushed from the wine.

"How is it?"

"Fine."

He sat back and considered his brother. Lee had been full of nervous energy from the second he'd been shown in; up and down, pacing, picking up things and putting them down again. Old habits. Now he was still, and Kazuya had the opportunity to get a proper look at him. The wine was relaxing him, he could see; his hand was loose on the glass. When he took up his knife, however, his fingers tightened unconsciously. His face was smooth and unlined; Kazuya's eyes took it in in a single glance, seeking flaws, scars, anything, and finding nothing. Only his eyes gave anything away. As he sipped his wine, Lee eyed Kazuya darkly, intent in his gaze that Kazuya couldn't quite decipher.

Now he was cutting into his steak again, long eyelids cast down briefly, admiring the pink inside of the meat, and Kazuya's eyes trailed down his neck. His silver necklace gleamed against his throat, catching the light, and Kazuya's eyes lingered on Lee's throat as he swallowed his steak and pressed his lips to the glass again.

Kazuya took up his knife and fork again, and prepared to slice another piece off his steak.

But his hands betrayed him; eager to cut another morsel they were moving quickly. His knife and fork clicked together clumsily. In the still room, the sound was painful to him.

He didn't bother looking up to see his brother's smirk of triumph. His hands moved; the steak disappeared. Lee sat back, dabbed a tiny dot of meat juice from the corner of his mouth, and watched him.

"It's Mishima, you know."

"What?"

"Mishima beef. Only the best for you."

There was laughter in Lee's tone and he made no attempt to conceal the mockery in his eyes as he drank and eyed Kazuya over the rim of his glass.

Kazuya chewed, focusing on the dark wine in his glass.

His brother was right, as much as he hated to admit it even to himself. The taste, the texture, the sheer pleasure every bite brought him – he hadn't had such a good steak since…

His face darkened. Since the night he took over the Zaibatsu.

Lee noticed his mood shift. He laid his hand down on the table, lightly tapping it to catch Kazuya's attention.

"Hey."

"What?"

"Let's have a toast."

Kazuya growled. What could they possibly drink to? His anger was building inside him again. He slammed down his knife and fork on his cleared plate, and glared at Lee.

Lee looked at him. He appeared to be giving it some thought.

"I never thought I'd see you again…let alone that you'd beat me in the first tournament I entered since the last one."

Kazuya watched his face, waiting for the trap to spring.

Lee refilled their glasses.

Kazuya took up his with some reluctance.

"And now you're here. And…it's strange. Seeing you here, like this."

Lee paused, about to say something else, then abruptly fell silent. He ran a hand through his silver hair, clearly troubled.

Kazuya didn't realise he'd been clutching the tablecloth with his free hand until he saw it begin to ruche and bunch in front of him. He let go.

"So, let's drink. To flesh and blood."

Lee solemnly clinked his glass to Kazuya's, holding his gaze for more seconds than were necessary for strict politeness.

Kazuya drank the stolen wine, and for the first time really tasted it; it was rich, deep and subtle. He drank, without taking his eyes off his brother.

Lee smiled, and sipped from his own glass. Between them lay the empty plates, the stolen wine, and the bunched-up table cloth.

There had been twenty years between them. Twenty years for Lee to turn over all the old hates, fears, and hurts in his mind. Twenty years for him to rage, hate, mourn, and finally move on. And then he had faced Kazuya, alive and malevolent as ever, in the tournament.

He'd been in disguise then, but Kazuya had recognised him, and Lee had been completely unable to focus. He'd crashed out of the tournament, flown back to the Bahamas, washed the dye out of his hair and seethed.

Then Kazuya had shown up, and Lee let him in.

So far, it was going as well as could be expected.

Kazuya sat his glass down and eyed him across the table. For a moment Lee felt the atmosphere change; he half-expected Kazuya to spring at him across the table like a big cat and bring him crashing down to the floor. Then Kazuya shifted in his seat and the mood was broken.

"What next?" he said softly.

Lee chose to ignore any implication in the question.

"Drink whiskey with me, like old times. I even stole us a bottle to start with."

Kazuya finished his wine, poured the last of the bottle into their glasses, and took another drink before shrugging irritably at his brother.

"Fine."

_We'll see_, Lee thought, and felt the familiar excitement of dealing with his brother rise to the surface again, sparking his nerves alight.

"So, you liked my cooking?"

Kazuya gestured irritably at his empty plate. "It was steak. You know I like steak."

Lee waited.

"Besides," Kazuya said with a cruel smirk, "it would be hard for even a fool like you to fuck up such a superb piece of meat."

Lee sighed.

"So you think you'd be just as great a fighter if you hadn't been trained by Heihachi?"

Kazuya froze, then stood, pushing away from the table, red eye ablaze.

Lee rose too.

They stared at each other. Long minutes passed.

"It's true, isn't it?" Lee said quietly, eyes still on his brother. "Give him that at least."

Kazuya sat back down suddenly, and reached for his glass. Lee did the same.

He was contemplating what to do next over a mouthful of wine when Kazuya broke into his thoughts.

"It wasn't awful."

Lee practically purred like a cat. He knew Kazuya well enough to understand this constituted great praise from him. He also knew the value of judging Kazuya by his reactions; there had been many times at restaurants when he'd reduced the whole staff to tears, sending back dish after dish. Lee had sat by silently as the managers had grovelled, fear plain in their eyes, as they tried to appease his brother.

He remembered when they'd been in New York on business the week before Nobu opened; they'd been specially invited by the owner for dinner, just the two of them. As Kazuya had eaten what would soon become known as the restaurant's signature dish, the famous blackened cod, the chef had watched anxiously.

Kazuya had finished his meal in silence, nodded his thanks, and left.

Lee was effusive in his praise, but he could sense the man's disappointment. "Don't worry," he promised, "it was great. He loved it, I could tell."

The worst of it was that he was being sincere; however Kazuya's subtleties were lost on most people.

No, he didn't _need_ to hear Kazuya saying what he already knew from seeing the haste with which he cut up his steak, the slight scrape of steel against porcelain when he'd been too impatient for grace, the way his mouth moved as he chewed, appreciating every bite. He knew from the expression Kazuya had from his first bite.

It was always too much fun to poke Kazuya though, even now, after all that lay between them.

Lee picked up his glass again, and turned to Kazuya, serious now.

"You were dead, and now you're back. I don't know. It's a lot. But you're here, and I've let you in. So let's drink to that, and whatever that means, because I have no fucking idea."

Kazuya regarded him in silence, and then he nodded. Slowly, he raised his own glass, and clinked it briefly against Lee's.

They drank deeply this time, barely tasting the exquisite drink, but it seemed more _right _that way.

Lee sat back in his chair, draped his arm over the back. He looked directly at Kazuya. Kazuya looked directly at him.

There it was again, something between them. Hate, yes, but there was also sadness, anger, and something else.

Kazuya wouldn't have come for nothing. Lee wouldn't have let him in for nothing.

Lee supposed that they would be digging up a lot of old feelings before Kazuya's stay was over.

He couldn't wait.

Eyeing his brother, he raised his glass again, a silent toast this time. Kazuya mirrored his gesture. They drank, watching each other's faces.

He didn't know if they could get past all the awfulness of the past. There was too much bad blood for it ever to be_ really_ right. Too much lay between them.

However, Lee thought, he'd mourned Kazuya,_ truly_ mourned him, and the alcohol was forcing him to confront the emotions he'd felt when his brother stepped out into the arena, when his brother was escorted into his home.

Fear. Relief. Anger. And yes, there was longing, so deeply buried underneath decades of therapy, hedonism and conscious effort that he'd almost forgotten it was there. He'd put away his photos of Kazuya, put the possessions of his he'd saved in storage. He couldn't bear to destroy them.

He smiled to himself, wondering if this Kazuya still liked his precious red sneakers, picturing the expression on that stern face when Lee retrieved them for him.

Kazuya took out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, offered it to Lee.

Lee took it, and watched as Kazuya lit his own, drawing on it deeply the way he always had, and he felt old familiar feelings rise up.

He finished his wine, and stood.

"Come on, we have whiskey to drink."

Kazuya looked at him, arched a thick brow.

"You'll approve. Father's best bottle…the one he was saving for retirement. Just picture his face if he could see us drinking it."

He turned and led the way out, and Kazuya laughed quietly as he followed. Some things really never changed between them, and he couldn't wait to see if other things had survived his absence as well.


End file.
